Slaves
by Bananas102
Summary: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood story. What if history was changed and State Alchemists were only human weapons? Slaves that were tortured and made to fight for the military? The Ishvalan war, as well as the toll on familiar characters, would have been very, very different. Rated T for torture and language.
1. Chapter 1

"Riza Hawkeye?"

Riza glanced up from where her sniper sat, cradled on her lap. She placed it to the side and stood up, quickly saluting.

"Yes, sir." The man looked almost embaressed. "You don't gotta do that, you know." Riza raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The man cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell you two things. One: We have a friend in common. Roy Mustang?"

Her surprise must not have been concealed completely, for she was suddenly greeted with a beaming smile. "Yup! Roy talked about you! I'm Maes Hughes; Roy and I were friends at the acadamy."

They shook hands.

"I'm sorry," Maes added, pushing up his glasses. "I know you two were close."

She blinked. "He's not dead."

Maes muttered something than sounded an awful lot like 'he'd be better off that way.'

Her expression saddened. "Then I take it he was taken in as a State Alchemist." Maes nodded solemnly. "Damn it," she growled. Her fists clenched from where they hung at her sides.

"You said there was something else you wanted to tell me." Maes looked up in surprise before his expression darkened, a look that seemed wrong on the man.

"Yeah. The military has ordered the State Alchemists to be brought in."

* * *

Roy knew he was being sent off to fight. That was all any of them knew.

Looking around them, he couldn't help but feel sick at the expressions most of them bore. Dead. Empty. Like they were nothing more than a shell.

The truck lurched to the side, but no one even found it an inconvenience. No one said a word. All the alchemists were chained with their wrists behind their backs. Roy's gloves were kept on the body of a single officer, the so called 'manager' of the State Alchemists.

"Anyone find out where we're going?" a voice asked, tone monotone. Glancing to his left, a heavily muscled alchemist sat in a corner. Roy faintly recognized him as the Strong Arm Alchemist.

Roy was at least satisfied in the knowledge that one other person still had a shell of life within them.

"No," Roy answered back, redirecting his gaze away from the man and back to his own lap. Since he had the ability to wield enormous power with his hands, they were bound so tightly any movement was painful and physically damaging.

He could feel the Strong Arm Alchemist's gaze on him. Roy exhaled, a few more beads of sweat matting the sides of his hair. It had been several hours ago, but it could have full well been days and he wouldn't have known, but the temperature had skyrocketed. The air was hot and stuffy.

The alchemists with severe injuries like broken ribs or punctured lungs wheezed heavily on the ride.

Only a few days later, did they finally arrive at their final destination.

To which they would later discover...was Ishbal.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors open and bright sunlight flooded in, making Roy squint.

Officers started yelling at them and shoving them out of the trucks. When the alchemists around him started standing and shuffling out, he got to his feet and lumbered toward the exit as well.

His mind seemed to disconnect from his body, slinking back into the refuge of his own head. Or at least, the small corner of it that wasn't littered in several versions of metal scarring.

Unrelenting arms grabbed his elbow and almost literally tossed his out of the back of the automobile. On impact he refused to let any sound escape his lips. His knees caved from the strain, but luckily he still stayed up, even though he was bent over from lack of energy.

Roy exhaled in soft pants, and he immediately glanced up to survey his surroundings. The group seemed to be in the middle of some sort of camp, for soldiers milling about with guns strapped to their backs and entering and exiting tents.

But as more and more alchemists were unloaded, the number of soldiers stopping increased. Some looked disgusted. Other horrified. A few even looked upon them with pity.

Considering how awful they must have looked, Roy wasn't all that shocked. But the sliver of fire within him growled at the thought of being pitied. Looking at the people slowing down to watch them, he recognized a few faces he distantly connected with the academy, before the higher ups deemed him a State Alchemist.

Then his eyes fell on two people standing side by side to his right. It was like a punch to the gut. He stared at them, hoping to God he was hallucinating.

* * *

Chatter spread through the camp like wildfire, signaling the arrival of the alchemists. Hughes and Hawkeye pushed through the soldiers until they reached a group of people surrounding the trunks that had only recently pulled in.

The sight that greeted them was nothing short of awful.

Every alchemist that was dragged out of those trucks were pale and thin, with dark circles under their eyes and bruises on their faces. They had their hands bound behind their backs, most painfully so.

Their stomachs churched as a few sweat-soaked alchemist collapsed to the ground as soon as their feet hit the sand.

BUt what really made their eyes widen was the black-haired alchemist that staggered dangerously out of the truck. Time seemed to slow down incredibly as Riza bit down on a whimper of horror.

Maes's face turned to shock.

The alchemist in question had almost fallen when he made contact with the uneven ground, but his shaking legs didn't fail him quite yet. His eyes were slits from the bright light, but that's not what really horrified them.

Not the bruises on his jawline or the small cuts on his forehead and neck.

It was broken look in Roy Mustang's eyes.

They were no longer glittering and dark, filled with fire and passion. They were shallow and still, like an abandoned ship.

"Roy," Riza whispered, moving forward, but Maes quickly grabbed her arm. "Hawkeye, you can't. It'll just make things worse for him, as well as cause trouble for you." Riza wanted nothing more than to run to her old friend, grab him, and run like hell.

But she had to admit, Maes was right. They'd only inflict wrath back onto the both of them, nothing more.

Roy stared at them with a slightly stunned expression before he was grabbed and shoved in the direction of the holding tent, where the alchemists would be housed until they were sent out onto the field.

"He looked so dead," Riza croaked. Maes 'hmm'ed. "I'm going to see if there's any way to talk to him. But until then, we have no choice but to get back to work." Riza nodded before drawing her heels together and saluting Hughes.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

As soon as both Roy and Riza were out of sight, Maes couldn't stop a shiver from crawling up his spine.

Riza had hit the nail on the head. Roy looked like a dead man walking. But then again, if he thought about the other alchemists, they didn't look that much different.

It was obvious they had gone through some kind of torture, though Hughes was pretty sure he'd rather stick a finger in acid than think about that. It was no secret that the military used the State Alchemists as human weapons, no different than guns or explosives.

Except they used cruel methods to keep them in line. The alchemists themselves were treated as an inhuman object, slaving away in dark military cells until they were called for, which usually took place in a war zone somewhere.

The public knew the ranking of State Alchemists, but the extent of their torture never reached civilian ears. Every soldier that walked in had no idea of the horrors the military were willing to inflict upon it's citizens.

But since they were soldiers, they couldn't do or say anything about it.

Some personnel were imprisoned for life when they attempted to spread the information.

Maes tapped one of the men on the shoulder. "Hey, could you point me toward the person who manages the alchemists?" he asked, swallowing nervously when the guy narrowed his eyes at him.

He jutted out his chin before directing with his head. "You're looking for Mark Basford," he rumbled. Maes chuckled nervously. "Thanks," he said before scurrying off.

When he did find the tent that supposedly held said manager he ended up simply tugging on his sleeves and trying to find the gall to go in.

"Here to see Colonel Basford?" Maes jumped, but when he turned to look, it turned out to be a rather friendly looking older guy. Maes nodded. "Yeah." The older guy chuckled. "Let me guess, you don't have the stomach to walk in?"

Maes grinned sheepishly.

"Sorta. I mean, I'm trying to find someone to arrange a visit to an alchemist." The man froze, looking at him quizzically. "You know, I'll tell you something," he declared, beckoning Maes in close.

"The military didn't used to treat those poor chaps that way until the current fuhrer came into power," he whispered. Maes blinked. "Really?" The old guy nodded. "Yup. I feel sorry for those guys, you know?"

Maes looked around before saying in a low voice, "The reason I'm trying to arrange a meeting is because I have a friend in there."

The older man seemed surprised. "Really?" Then a determined expression came over him. He cracked his knuckles. "I'll get you your meeting," he growled, marching into the tent without restraint, leaving a startled Maes staring after him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Roy? Roy Mustang?" Maes felt sick as he wandered through the tent that was absolutely crammed with tied up alchemists. Only one or two stirred as he wandered through them, eyes scanning for a head of ebony hair.

He found Roy eventually, in the back right corner. The officer squatted down in front of his friend, who was staring at the floor with an empty gaze. "Roy?" he asked softly. The alchemist raised his head.

"Maes?" he whispered, and the gray of his eyes darkened a shade, showing a little more or the Roy he remembered. "Yeah. Roy, it's me." Roy looked down, bringing his bound wrists to his chest.

Maes reached down to untie them, but Roy jerked his wrists away. "Don't," he muttered. Maes sighed. "Roy, me and Hawkeye are coming up with a plan to get you out of here."

"Hawkeye?" Maes closed his eyes momentarily. "Yes. She's helping me. We're getting you out." A voice chuckled. "Out? Impossible." Maes frowned at the long-haired alchemist sitting across the tent.

His long dark hair was strewn across his shoulders and back. He was thin, his cheekbones sunken in and a nasty looking gash was open and bleeding on the right side of his forehead.

"Why'd you help?" the man hissed. Roy looked over at him, bangs falling over his face. "Stop, Kimblee." The alchemist huffed, but it soon turned into a harsh coughing fit that didn't die for almost a minute. But he shut up, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Maes leaned in closer to Roy. "Who is he?" Roy watched Kimblee carefully. "The Crimson Alchemist." Maes almost chuckled. "He's the liveliest of you bunch." Roy blinked. "He's a friend. Keeps me going," Roy rasped.

The soldier wasn't sure what to say. "Hey! Come on, time's up," the guard barked. Maes clapped Roy gently on the shoulder, feeling a twinge in his chest when Roy flinched.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Maes stood up and weaved through the huddled bodies to get to the entrance, where he conversed tersely with the guard before leaving, Roy watching him go before the tent flap closed, enclosing them all in near complete darkness once more.

"So that's Maes Hughes." Roy blinked a few times. "Yeah."

It was true that he owed everything to Kimblee. He was his only friend among the other alchemists, constantly striking up conversations and keeping Roy from deteriorating into a shell like so many of the others.

Roy would never knew how Kimblee kept his spirits up, but part of it seemed due to his innate ability to tolerate the constant bloodshed. In the times the two got separated, Roy seemed less alive.

On Kimblee's end, he was just happy to have a friend. Roy was a good person, a good friend. And in turn, Kimblee felt a sort of protectiveness that kept him helping the Flame Alchemist.

In other words, the two needed each other.

* * *

"The Crimson Alchemist?" Hawkeye murmured. "He's due out on the battlefeild in a few days, I think." Maes nodded.

A soldier started ushering people to the side. "Come on, people, move it." Maes muttered something but the two shuffled over. In the space provided, soldiers flanked a group of alchemists. One was the Strong Arm Alchemist, another was Roy, and behind him, was one neither Hawkeye or Hughes knew.

"We have to fight with them today," Maes sighed. Hawkeye nodded, grip tightening on her sniper rifle. He nodded to the woman. "See you out there." She saluted him. "Yes, sir."

She quickly jogged away. Maes took a breath and swiftly moved into the soldiers getting ready to ship out side by side with the alchemists. The three sat slumped next to a ruined building. Roy sat with his face turned down towards his lap, his eyes a shimmering gray again.

One of the soldiers look at him in disgust, spitting a wad of saliva at his feet. "Not as high and mighty as you thought, are you?" he spat. Roy slowly looked up at the man before casting his eyes down again. Enraged, Maes grabbed his arm.

"I see you doing that again and I'll turn you over to the Colonel," he growled. the soldier flushed and saluted him. "Yes, sir!" Maes looked at him long and hard before nodding.

He sighed. "Alright, troop. Let's go." It was a recon of a small Ishvalan village. No one had yet been able to determine the force of their attacks, so their little group had been volunteered.

They climbed down a hill of broken building parts, every soldier holding a gun and, Maes noted, Roy wearing striking gloves of white with a red symbol on them.

Maes hadn't even had time to issue an order before bullets were raining down on them some hitting soldiers and other shattering stone pieces. A snap echoed in Hughes' ears before there was an explosion, and the rooftop the attackers were on burned.

With sickening horror, Maes realized he could hear their agonized screams on the wind. He looked over at Roy, whose hand was poised in the form it had taken when he saved the lives of almost the entire troop.

Roy's eyes slowly darkened, then widened as his action hit him in full force.

His hand trembled and it fell to his side. The alchemist blinked a few times.

"We should go," he rasped, looking shell-shocked and numb. Maes nodded.

Roy began walking shakily, a limp to his step, farther into the village.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thomas, get down!" Maes barked.

It was unnecessary, for a second later another explosion took out the building. Maes quickly looked over at Roy, who was looking more ill with every flame he created.

Maes laid his hand down on Roy's shoulder gently. "Roy, it's okay," he soothed.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't get rid of the smell of burning bodies. There wasn't another scent like it.

His friend squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and for a moment, Roy nearly turned and hugged the man.

At the last second, he tensed and started walking.

* * *

"How was it out there?" Kimblee asked.

Roy didn't respond for a moment, and the long haired alchemist prodded him gently with an elbow.

"Awful," he eventually replied.

Kimblee didn't say anything, obviously waiting for him to continue.

But he let Roy speak at his own pace.

"So much...death. I...murdered people. Women...and children," he said, the words feeling thick on his tongue, especially since he didn't talk very often.

Kimblee inhaled, then exhaled. "It'll be my turn tomorrow," he said.

Roy blinked.

"Death doesn't really bother me. Hasn't for as long as I can remember. I turned that part of me off a long time ago. To be honest, it's probably the only reason I'm still functional after all of this time."

Kimblee looked at Roy, grinning slightly. "It's hard, but make sure you don't get rid of that, 'kay?"

Roy frowned, but nodded once.

"All we can do is wait," Kimblee sighed, shifting to get comfortable. "But I get the feeling that we'll get out of this someday."

Roy turned to look at him.

Kimblee, even after the agony he'd been through, still held a spark in those dark eyes.

Without a word, Roy laid back against the rough fabric of the tent and shut his eyes in the hopes of sleeping.

The nightmares came anyway.

* * *

_"Get on the floor, scum," the guard ordered._

_Roy looked up at him through the eye that wasn't swollen shut._

_He suddenly grinned, and spit on the guard's shoes._

_The guard roared in anger and kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling._

_Roy grinned and bore it, even when they beat him senseless and dragged him to the Room._

_The alchemist knew exactly where he was when the smell of blood and death filled his nostrils and crammed itself down his throat._

_That's when he grew frightened._

* * *

When Kimblee left the tent the next morning for the battlefield, he suddenly turned to grin and wave at Roy.

"See ya later, guys!" he said brightly to the other alchemists, and Roy subtly ducked his head to hide the slight twitch of his lips.

The tent flap closed and distantly, he heard the telltale sound of something hard against flesh, followed by a pained grunt a low snigger.

Roy simply curled into a ball. _I'm so tired...of everything._

* * *

Maes felt like throwing up as the guards beat Kimblee.

The Crimson Alchemist settled down, but not without the addition of a few bruises.

Kimblee was left with Maes's group and when the guard left, Kimblee smiled.

"Hello, Roy's friend." One of the soldiers in the squad bristled, fists balled.

"You think you have permission to speak? Especially to a superior officer!"

Kimblee turned to the young man, eyes darting up and down his form briefly. "If that's true, then why are you talking?"

Silence.

Mae's eyebrows rose until they very nearly vanished into his hair. _No wonder he keeps Roy going, this guy's got more than enough cheek to run on.  
_

He didn't say anything, curious to see how his soldier would react.

The blonde sputtered indignantly, "I-I'm a soldier! A-And you're a-"

Kimblee raised an eyebrow.

"You're just an alchemist!"

Kimblee watched him for a moment, eyes dead and lifeless, which momentarily startled Maes.

Then his pale lips began to move. "I fight, just as you do. The only difference is that I am branded a slave and you are not."

The soldier had no response, and then Maes decided to get things going.

"Okay! Uh...let's split up, hmm? Cover a bit more ground today. I'll take the alchemist and go through the roads, the rest of you can take the perimeter.

His squad stared at him like he was nuts, or possibly growing a second head.

Then they nodded and departed, giving him a quick salute.

Maes led Kimblee down into the battlefield, where there was always the sound of screams and explosions in the distance.

"Why did you separate us from them?" Kimblee asked quietly, wincing as the sun beat down on them.

Maes paused for a moment, then resumed walking. "I wanted to talk to you."

Kimblee's long hair fell over his face. "About?" he asked slowly, stepping over a semi-large piece of rubble.

"...Roy."

Before Kimblee could respond, they were under a hail of fire. He grabbed Maes's arm and dragged him down behind a half-collapsed wall.

Maes swore, turning to look over the way at his gun, which was lying on the ground a few feet away.

Kimblee searched the building across the street for the enemy, and sure enough, shadows flickered in one of the windows.

The Crimson Alchemist took a breath and unwrapped the old, tattered bandages from around his palms. Vivid black symbols greeted him, and he exhaled.

Without hesitation, he clapped his hands together as in prayer, and watched with no discernable expression as the entire upper floor of the building exploded.

Maes observed the destruction with wide eyes.

He looked back at Kimblee, who frowned for a moment before he turned and sat down on the ground with a sigh.

"That's kind of tiring."

He glanced over at Maes.

"So," he began, "You wanted to talk about Roy?"


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened when you all were...taken?"

Kimblee blinked and rubbed the palms of his hands against his pants. "I thought you wanted to talk about Roy."

Maes nodded hesitantly. "I do...but that's not all I'd like to know, if you're willing to tell me."

The long-haired alchemist licked his lips. "That's rather personal, isn't it?"

Maes's eyes widened and his immediately apologized.

Kimblee waved it off. "It's alright," he soothed. "I don't find it a big deal to tell people."

For a moment Maes looked expectant, but his face quickly fell when Kimblee continued.

"But it's something I can't tell you."

"Why?" Maes pressed. "Are they forcing you to keep quiet? I won't tell anyone," he added in a rush.

Kimblee almost laughed, a huff of breath and a quick smile. "Nah, I mean, we obviously aren't to tell anyone, but that doesn't scare me."

He licked his lips, trying to find the words to say what he needed Maes to understand. "I can't tell you because it's not the kind of story you can hear. No word ever created can possibly even begin to describe what we went through. You have to feel it; live it, to understand."

Maes nodded slowly, a frown forming on his lips. "I see. I can accept that I won't understand it, but I need to know anyway."

Kimblee shrugged. "Alright," he conceded, "But under one condition."

He suddenly pierced Maes with a stare of such ferocity that Maes was nearly paralyzed with shock. "You _must_ tell it to the world. Let mothers know what happens to their sons and daughters when they leave them in the care of this county," he snarled.

When Maes nodded, Kimblee slid back into his normal calm, pleasant demeanor. "How much time until we go back?"

The soldier checked his watch. "A few hours until we have to regroup with the troop."

Kimblee nodded, deeming it a long enough amount of time to begin the tale. "You positive you want to hear this? It's something you should probably talk about with Roy."

Maes looked down at the ground. "I can't wait for that," he said quietly.

"Okay."

Maes looked up in surprise and Kimblee held up his hands, sweat-covered transmutation circles briefly flashing in the light.

"Hey, I'm not going to judge you. It's your choice."

"...Thanks."

The two cleared out another building, deciding that it was better to complete the quota for the day and talk at the same time.

Kimblee hummed. "Let's see...we should start with where I met Roy...man, it seems like centuries ago."

Maes waited patiently, checking for any signs of enemy movement through his binoculars.

"Ah, I remember now. We were sitting in the same truck on our way to Westhedge." The alchemist chuckled softly.

"Westhedge?" Maes probed.

Kimblee told him, "Westhedge was the name of the facility we were sent to. It's also where we came from to fight here."

He smiled. "The first time Roy and I met, he punched one of our guards in the face."

Maes blanched. "What? Why?" _Not that I'm overly surprised..._

"It was the day reality came crashing down on us, and most of us refused to accept it."

* * *

**Three years ago:**

Kimblee looked around. The back of the truck was packed with state alchemists, all of which were clueless as to where they were going.

The guard standing at the foot of the truck checked his watch. "We still have one more."

As soon as the words left his lips, the back door to the building opened and a young, black-haired alchemist was escorted out.

Kimblee watched in irritation as the guard approached and converse with the narrow-eyed man, who eventually nodded and allowed himself to be led into the truck with the others.

He ended up sitting next to Kimblee, who looked away. The whole way there, Kimblee refused to look in the other's direction.

There was something about that put Kimblee off, and Kimblee couldn't figure out what that was, and so was inclined to dislike him.

It was hours before the trucks slowed to a stop, and Kimblee took the time to look up and glance around, like most of the other alchemists, new one included.

The building was massive, gray and looming above their heads. There was no signs that told them what it was, but there were guards _everywhere. _

There entered the gates, which were locked behind them. When Kimblee peered at it further, he realized the entire wall, gate included, was electrified.

_What kind of place is this..?_

All in all, there were fourteen state alchemists. Kimblee counted out of boredom when they were escorted off of the trucks and into the first section of the building, a large room that contained a ridiculous amount of doors.

They stood in a line, waiting for someone to explain what was happening. Soon, the guards asked them to go through one of the doors, which didn't really lead to much rather than a long hallway with a table covered with bins off to the side.

"Please place your weapons and uniforms into the bins," one the guards said. Kimblee scowled.

"Why?" another voice asked roughly, before Kimblee could. He looked behind him to see it was the newbie.

The man looked partially to mostly Xingese, but there were subtle differences.

His eyes were slanted and colored an impressive shade of dark blue, which was very uncommon for foreigners.

The guards looked over at him, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, sir, but those are my orders."

His response was met with a piercing gaze, hard and strong. The alchemist stared the man down for a few seconds before relenting and shrugging off his coat.

They stripped off their jackets and any weapons (which left most of them feeling rather bare).

Kimblee watched as the new alchemist very slowly stripped off his stark white gloves.

They were as pale as freshly fallen snow, and the transmutation circles inscribed on the backs was the color of blood.

In Kimblee's opinion, they were rather handsome, but not his style.

The back of his mind pointed out that the gloves was most likely the ignition for the alchemist's power.

They filed into the first room, and then into another. And other. Eventually, Kimblee began to get a headache from the maze.

He kept track of his most of the ways they came in, but he wasn't able to remember all of them. Suddenly, they stopped.

Kimblee's heart sped up and he stiffened, warning bings ringing like mad. It was a row of cells.

Seven, side by side, dark ad cramped with bars on the front, and the rest made of stone.

All of them were covered entirely with strange runes, not unlike the alchemic ones they used themselves.

A man stood there, waiting for them.

He was tall and fairly muscled, with sharp, beady eyes and a deep scowl. He had brown hair and he stood as rigid as humanly possible.

When every alchemist stood in a line, like before, the man began to speak.

"I am Colonel Basford. This marks the beginning of your training," he rumbled. "I will now establish the first rules."

Kimblee frowned. _Training? This makes no sense..._

"One: You are to never make direct contact with any of the staff here."

The tension in the room began to grow.

"Two: You are to never speak without permission."

Several people began to bristle, Kimblee included.

"Three: You must obey every command a staff member gives you, no matter what."

Suddenly, the man smiled. "This is a prison for people like you. You are nothing but human weapons; tools, for the country's use."

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room.

Then, everyone was jolted out of their reverie but the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Kimblee blinked and saw the newbie, his face twisted in rage and hands balled into fists, and he realized what had just happened.

The kid had just punched the head honcho in the face.

The man seethed with anger and barked orders at the guards, who all converged the alchemist.

A second later, and Kimblee joined the fight, slamming his palms together in the symbol of prayer, and watching in morbid amusement as several guards were blasted through the door.

Most of the alchemists were fighting by the time Kimblee's explosion died, but several of them were at a disadvantage without their weapons.

The guards seemed endless, which was more or less the point, Kimblee realized. _If there are enough of these bastards, even we can be overwhelmed._

Kimblee fought a few with hand to hand combat, punching and kicking violently in the knowledge that they had to find a way out of there before reinforcements arrived.

A moment later and there was a crack, followed by pain erupting in the back of Kimblee's head.

He was swallowed into the blackness, where he knew nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**To all readers:**

**Hello! I cannot possibly apologize enough for how long I've been absent from this. I lost my touch for writing, and so I went back to the basics, and I read. I read and read and read. Now, for the first time in a while I feel like writing again! **

**And so, I'm putting this fanfic under construction. I'm unhappy with the way I wrote some things, so I'm fixing it up and continuing it.**

**Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, your support will forever be appreciated. :) **

**The rewrite will most likely take the place of this one, unless there are people out there who still want me to keep the original; Then, I'll keep this around. Please let me know!**

**~Bananas102**


	7. Chapter 7

**Update: The rewritten version of Slaves is up, the title is Slaves: The Rewrite (fancy, right?). I only have the first chapter up as of right now, but I'm working on it. **

**Thank you so much for your support! :D**

**~Bananas102**


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